


Pinned Piece

by weakinteraction



Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson
Genre: Caretaking, Chocolate Box Treat, F/M, Minor Injuries, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 10:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: Florence has a minor accident just before a tournament. Freddie unexpectedly looks after her.





	Pinned Piece

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SegaBarrett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/gifts).



The pain was excruciating. But worse still was the embarrassment. Florence Vassy didn't do things like slipping on the third step of the staircase in the hotel, tumbling down them awkwardly and ending up flat on her back.

She hated the way everyone was fussing around her: the hotel staff, whose primary concern from the outset seemed to have been that she might sue -- as far as they were concerned, she was with the American team, and Americans were notoriously litigious; Freddie himself, who had finally got bored of waiting for her in the restaurant, and, on coming back out to find her in this state, instantly threatened legal action; and the doctor who had been summoned to attend to her, who was poking and prodding at her legs on ways that, if anything, seemed designed to increase the pain.

Finally, the doctor looked up. "Not broken," he pronounced. "You are lucky. But you must rest, yes? At least forty eight hours." He took out a pad and scribbled a prescription. "For the pain," he said.

"We'll get that filled for you, ma'am," said the oversolicitous general manager. As the crowd around her thinned, she saw that they had already dug out a wheelchair, a big, heavy thing that the hotel presumably had in reserve for this sort of thing.

"Let me," said Freddie, holding out his hand.  
She was so surprised at the gesture that it took her a moment to pull herself up.

* * *

Florence had half-expected Freddie to race down the corridor to her room once they emerged from the lift, but instead he was the exact opposite, if anything overly cautious, constantly checking that she was all right if there was even the smallest bump along the way.

"I've sprained my ankle, Freddie, stop acting like I've been diagnosed with a terminal disease."

Once she was in bed, he brought her the room service menu, asked her what she wanted to order, then phoned it down.

"You don't have to--"

"I _want_ to," Freddie said.

And so the pattern was set for the next two days. The match wasn't due to start just yet, though Freddie spent most of his time in her room, fussing over this and that, reading to her from the newspaper, even though she was perfectly capable of doing so herself.  
The only times he was away were the various press commitments. Florence fretted about what he might say without her there to warn him off being too adversarial, but they seemed to go relatively smoothly.

Florence wondered what it was that was making Freddie act like this. Perhaps he had had to do this sort of thing for his mother whenever she was sick, and he just took it as natural. Or maybe it was simply something being obviously physically wrong; perhaps that meant that Freddie put it in the category of problems that could be fixed, even if the only real cure was time.

"You should be practising," she said to him at one point, but his only response to that was to clear the remains of her lunch off a room service tray and set up her chess set on it. They played with the board precariously balanced on her lap. The painkillers made it hard for her to concentrate, but she still managed to hold him to a stalemate.

"Don't go easy on me because of my leg," she said.

"As if I would," Freddie said.

* * *

On the third day, Freddie helped her as she got out of bed and put weight on it for the first time since the fall. She winced, and he seemed to want her to get straight back into bed.

"I'll be fine, Freddie," she said. "Just ... let me go shower, all right?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything ..."

And just like that, the old acerbic Freddie was back. It was strangely reassuring after the last few days.

"See you downstairs when you're ready, kiddo," he said when he reached the door of her room. "Just remember: one step at a time."

The cushion she threw hit the door just a moment after it closed.


End file.
